


And So It Was Written

by Center_of_the_Galaxy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chuck Shurley Being an Asshole, Chuck Shurley is God, F/M, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Reader, Reader Is Not A Hunter, Worried Sam Winchester, hostage reader, hurt reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22781968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Center_of_the_Galaxy/pseuds/Center_of_the_Galaxy
Summary: Chuck can't touch Sam; but you, however are fair game.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	And So It Was Written

You woke strapped to a chair, ropes biting into your skin. You gasped, panic surging, trying to break free, but nothing moved.

“I wouldn’t bother,” A calm voice stated. You turned your head, spying a normal looking guy seated at a well worn desk, leaning back in a chair, “You won’t escape.”

“What do you want?” You growled, refusing to show fear. You weren’t going to give this sick man any sense of satisfaction.

The man smirks, “This has nothing to do with you, but rather the man you’re dating. Sam Winchester, right?”

Your blood ran cold. Your breath escaped from your lungs in a shudder.

“I don’t know who—”

The man waves you off, “Spare me the lies, will you?” His cold eyes meet yours, “I know you’re his girlfriend. And honestly, it never bothered me, I wanted him to have some happiness,” The man continues to ramble, then his voice cuts low and sharp, “But since he and his brother aren’t playing fair, why should I?”

“Who are you?” You need an exit strategy because it’s clear, whoever—or whatever, your mind amends—is before you now has clearly lost his mind.

You’re not a hunter. You met Sam working at your bakery and won him over through lattes and slices of pie. You found out his profession after he saved your place from an angry ghost and you decided that you could handle it.

As crazy as “it” was.

But now, this man knows more about Sam than he should and you won’t end up as another casualty for Sam to mourn. You’re going to fight and survive.

Sam and Dean had protected you once. Now, you would pay back the favor.

The man smiles, like the cat who caught the canary, “I’m God. And it’s time for you to play your part in Sam’s story.”

You don’t have time to process anything. Survival instinct kicks in and you nearly break your wrist, but rubbing against the rope has loosened it enough for you to slip free. You throw the chair toward him and sprint out the door, slamming it behind you.

You’re in a warehouse, dark and empty, but you know you’re outmatched. Your only choice is to run. You push your body to its breaking point, sprinting past what you ever thought possible, but with the exit in sight, the man appears before you.

The pain from the knife stabbing you is sudden and shocking. He catches you as your body starts to list, whispering in your ear, “Can’t die just let. Wait for him.”

And he leaves you bleeding out on the floor.

* * *

You drift in and out of reality. Your body chills as more and more of your blood stains the ground. You’re bait and a trap all wrapped up in a bloody package.

You hear rushed footsteps and the echoes of your name being called. Tears sting your eyes. You want to call out and be found, but to do so would be leading your love to a trap.

But it would seem that fate is against you.

Sam finds you, eyes wide with panic, his arms scooping you up, pulling you toward his warm body.

“Sam,” your mouth won’t work; your voice is shaky and breathless, “It’s a trap.”

He ignores you, placing a hand on your face, his thumb pushing a strand of hair out of your face, “Focus on you. Don’t worry about me.”

You want to push him away. He needs to live. You refuse to be the reason why he ends. You feel tears slip down your cheek, “Sam, please, go.”

“No,” Sam growls, “Dean and Cas are here. We’re gonna get out of here—”

“Sammy!” Dean shouts, running up with Castiel close by his side, “We gotta move, Chuck is—!”

But the man—Chuck, you realize—stands before them, with you in his arms. He smiles sickly at you, a twisted parody of a concerned face.

Sam and Dean draw their guns and Castiel glares.

“Release her!” The angel shouts, but Chuck chuckles.

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” Chuck replies, “All three of you have been very bad boys.” His grip on you tightens and you wince, “And you need to be punished.”

Sam steps forward, lowering his gun, “Okay, Chuck. You want me? You got it. Just let her go.”

“No!” You scream, pushing against Chuck’s hold, but he drops you instead. You cry out in pain as your wound hits the cold, concrete floor.

“It’s too late for that,” Chuck replies softly, “Just like it’s too late for her. Enjoy the show, boys.”

And then he’s gone.

Sam is there, warm hands, gentle touches and hushed voices, but the world grows dimmer and dimmer.

Until there’s just the dark, vast and unyielding.


End file.
